Hakuhei Shugi
by TiamatV
Summary: Of all the things that Kaname thought could probably bring Sousuke low... she never considered that a bra would be one of them.
1. Part 1 of 2

Hakuhei Shugi (Close Quarters):

Part 1/2  
-------------------------------------------------

It started as an accident.

Though Kaname's and Sousuke's friends teased them all the time about their dating and cohabitation, very few people knew that they still, well, for all intents and purposes, kept separate rooms. Oh, their high school classmates had made all the predictable ribald comments at first, when the news got out that they were moving in together after graduation. The girls had cooed and made silly noises about how she was turning into Sagara Kaname, and the boys… the boys had made typical _boy _comments about long-barrelled guns, straight shooting, reloading, shooting blanks… the sort of thing that you just had to expect from anyone who spent any time at all around Sagara Sousuke. One bold soul had even piped up, "And with her, you'll _definitely _need a silencer!" much to Sousuke's obvious confusion.

A threatening look all around and a twitch of Kaname's fan-bearing hand quickly put a stop to _that_ nonsense—and drove the girls into giggles, and half of the males in the class into cowering underneath their desks.

Sousuke had commented, something that might have been a smile or might have not been on his serious face, that they had learned how to take cover faster than he had.

When she looked closer, of course, the expression was nowhere in evidence.

The one time their friends did ask her about their sex life in mixed company, both she and Sousuke went so helplessly scarlet that everyone just… took the idea and mentally ran with it. They'd been going out since their second year of high school, after all. By this time, what couple _hadn't_ moved to more… intimate… measures?

It wasn't a misconception that _she_ was about to correct in public… and it certainly wasn't one that Sousuke was about to correct, despite his habit of offering unsolicited information—at least, not if he wanted to keep his head attached to his body. Though, it had to be said, he'd tried—she'd kicked him under the table the moment he opened his mouth, and he'd never mentioned it again.

Kaname had to admit—when it came to verbal gaffes, he never made the _same_ inappropriate comment twice, at least.

And as time went on… well, after all this time of letting everyone believe exactly what they wanted to believe, how _could _she seriously discuss the topic of their sleeping arrangements with anyone else?

The truth was, she'd never made the first move towards more… and he was Sousuke. Much to her frustration, he'd never pressed, never hinted, and _definitely_ never even so much as twitched a suggestive finger. And not even the dirtiest mind would have been able to misconstrue his rare, fleeting little kisses on her cheek, or her forehead, or his arm around her shoulder when they watched TV together, as hitting on her.

When they'd first started making the preparations to move in together, Kaname had thought it was a tacit understanding that they'd share the bedroom, and make the living room into a sort of common room, with a sofa, a TV, perhaps a small dining room table for food and studying. She'd been all _tingly_ about it, too… especially when they'd gone out to buy furniture. Her delight at not having to hit him over the head with a clue-by-trout had completely overwhelmed the sensible little voice that had insisted that this couldn't possibly be what it seemed like. Not with Sagara Sousuke in charge.

Well, what _was_ a girl to think when the boy she was moving in with informed her that they would only need a single bed?

From the point of view of more than a year of hindsight and two years of dating, Kaname could still shake her head at her own naivety.

If she was the girlfriend of one Sergeant Sagara Sousuke, _obviously_ she would think that the bed was for her comfort, in the bedroom… and that he would sleep on a bedroll, out in the living room. After all, the bedroom was perfectly secure: it didn't have windows, or a balcony, as he informed her. The living room did, and was therefore that much more vulnerable to attack.

Disappointment always made her snappish—she'd snarled, "If you're in the living room, they're going to attack _you_, stupid."

Sousuke had simply raised both eyebrows, as oblivious to non-ballistic danger as always, and replied, "But _you_ will be safe, Kaname. That is all that matters."

It had deflated her anger like he'd hit the scarlet balloon of it with a well-placed shot from his pistol, that was for sure. He hadn't mentioned missions, and duties; no Arm Slaves, no guns, no Mithril. Considering the havoc she'd been about to rain on his head, he couldn't have picked a better time to pull out something so unintentionally… _sweet_.

Kaname had to smile when she thought about it: two years of dating Sousuke had most definitely changed her standards about what she considered 'sweet.'

Besides, even though the present status quo bothered her, who exactly was she supposed to ask about how to initiate that kind of relationship? Sousuke was just so different from anyone else she'd ever met—he just didn't _get_ subtle signals, and she didn't know just how blatantly obvious she could be before the situation just turned into something resembling the plot of bad porn. The thought of asking her father, or her sister, made her break out in hives. Her classmates—either her high school friends or her college friends—couldn't even begin to understand just how unusual Sousuke's upbringing had been. Melissa would suggest getting him drunk. Kurz would probably tell her to wait for him in his bedroll, naked—

Kaname would never divulge to anyone, ever, that she'd actually tried something of the sort, one day after a few glasses of liquid courage. He'd been showering, the light of their living room lamps soft and dim and orange, and she'd tucked herself into the warm, surprisingly comfortable covers spread over his living-room pallet. She'd been dressed, of course. It was just a brief little nightgown and some panties—didn't she deserve to be undressed on her first time? _Surely_ he'd still get the hint…

Naturally, she'd awoken to early morning, the bedroll drawn gently up to her chin. When she looked around her, of course Sousuke was catnapping on the couch with his face turned towards the 'vulnerable' window, his favourite pistol peeking out from under a cushion.

She'd been about to whack him awake with a pillow out of sheer frustration when he cracked an eye open and looked at her—his hand had tightened on the Glock for a second before it dropped down again. He'd studied her, and her expression of thwarted rage, with those dark, intense eyes—how the man could be so awake, so intense, and so clueless first thing in the morning was just one of those mysteries. And then he'd cocked his head, pushing himself mostly upright with an elbow, and murmured, "Good morning, Kaname. It is very nice to see you first thing in the morning."

All the bright red anger in her stomach had turned to fluffy pink mush, tingling with nervousness. It would have been the perfect opportunity—perfect, with an opening like that.

Except she'd taken one step towards him… and her feet, slow and mazy with morning, had tangled in the crumpled nest of the bedroll. Later on, she'd find herself calling it her Tessa moment. She'd have hated it for that alone.

It was, she'd thought, watching the floor rise towards her as if in slow motion, the story of her life.

He caught her, though—a blur of movement, his soft 'mmph' as he dove, hit the floor, and snapped back upright again, arms under her outstretched ones, her face pressed into a chest that felt warm and firm and so startlingly _male_ that she'd gasped with it. Even as she blinked at what was his worn grey shirt and not the ground, he scolded gently about her low blood pressure—she always rolled her eyes when he called it 'hypotension'—before gently scooping her up and carrying her—_carrying her_, how many college boys could just physically pick up their girlfriends like that?!—to the couch. And then bringing her a glass of orange juice.

This, too, was the story of her life.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad story after all.

Sadly, living with Sousuke was probably making _her _just a little paranoid. When Kaname heard the crash of breaking glass, and the sharp retort of his exclamation… him having opened the refrigerator and the bottle of milk she'd balanced precariously on top of the leftovers falling out was not the first thing that occurred to her.

What exactly she was planning to do to any attacker, considering that she'd charged out of the bedroom half-dressed, barefoot, and with Sousuke's name on her lips… well, maybe she hadn't exactly thought _that_ through.

She found him in the kitchenette, surveying the carnage. He'd already dropped paper towels on the floor and had a dustpan and broom in hand—efficient as always—and she heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh. Thank _goodness_. Don't scare me like that!"

"I apologise, Kaname, the milk—" He turned to look at her—and she watched the word die on his lips, dustpan clattering back to the tiled linoleum. "K-Kaname…?!"

Her first reaction was to cover herself—wasn't it every girl's? She'd long gotten over the tendency to hit him whenever his hand accidentally impacted somewhere inappropriate… she really did understand that most of the time, when it happened, it was because he was trying to protect her. (And besides, it was much more eminently fair to hit him for overreacting to nonexistent dangers, rather than for stealing an unintentional grope. She almost _appreciated_ the unintentional gropes.)

But with him standing in front of her in their kitchenette, dustpan at his bare feet, dressed in a pair of dark slacks and with his undershirt untucked, he looked so… well… _touchable_. Just a little mussed. Not to say that he didn't cut quite a dashing figure in the button-downs and slacks that he wore to school, and his uniform was always perfectly pressed to match his perfectly straight posture… but Sergeant Sagara was Mithril's. Messy morning Sousuke was _hers_.

With a deep breath, Kaname lowered—forced, really—her arms back down her sides, raised her chin… and dared him to do his worst. She was beautiful. She was sexy. She _knew_ she was. And if a certain Captain Clueless couldn't appreciate that, well, that was his loss, and she would just have to… to tell… him… so…

But her boyfriend of two years was still staring down at her, and the look on his face most definitely wasn't… apathy. Or even close. Or even in the same _language._

She liked a little honest appreciation as much as the next girl, and Sousuke wasn't given to being verbal, or at least complimentary… but there were times, with him, when his reaction in and of itself was just… precious, really. He probably would have ruined it if he _had_ thought to say something.

More likely than not, it would have been something like, "Chidori, you have forgotten your shirt."

After three years in Japanese society, she had to admit that he was getting better, but he still did lapse now and again… mostly at the most inconvenient moment possible.

The way his eyes lingered, though, dipped downwards almost infinitesimally, then jerked back up to hers… she liked that he was polite enough not to… ogle, even if they'd been dating two years already. And when a shy smile trembled over her lips and she found herself nodding her assent to a question he hadn't asked… the way his gaze trailed back downwards again, stroking into her cleavage with almost palpable force, lingering over a tiny pink ribbon _here_ and a small, well-placed white tuft of lace_ there_… she hadn't known that the feel of him just looking at her could tingle down her skin like that. It was _cute_ that he asked permission with his eyes, she thought. Cuter that his breath caught, finally, and when he looked back into her eyes, his cheeks were hot.

Her fearless sergeant still blushed like a schoolboy. She wondered if their college classmates knew that.

"You know, Sousuke," Kaname took a deep breath, and watched the blood vessel right in front of his ear throb as his jaw clenched, and he had to visibly work to pull his gaze back up to hers. He was sweating again, a little, and she grinned. Teasing him was _fun_, now that she knew he actually reacted to it. "You don't look at me like _that_ when I wear my bikini on the beach." She'd have noticed. _Everyone _would have noticed. Even if he hadn't said a word, the look in his eyes would have left small dark scorch-marks on her favourite white bathing suit.

He cleared his throat, but he didn't take his eyes from hers—even when he bent to pick up the dustpan at his feet, and put it aside. "Ah… that is a public locale, Chidori." Even his blinking was slow, deliberate, and his gaze was a low thrum of heat, intense as the waves reflecting off a summer sidewalk… maybe, just maybe, he wanted this as much as she did…? "Why _do_ you enjoy flaunting your body in such a fashion?"

Chidori blinked back, twice as slowly. Hard to tell if he was joking. _Very_ hard to tell. Even Sousuke had to know, by this point, that she wore that bikini so that _he _would look at her, not so any of the other dirty-minded fellows on the beach could get their jollies… so he had to be joking. If only because the sight of him ogling her was simply too pleasant to spoil with a good hard smack upside his fool head.

"Er." He blinked down at her again—faster, this time. Maybe the way her foot had started tapping had signalled to him that he'd said something not-quite-right. Maybe he _was_ learning. Maybe. "Ah… but it is a very _nice_ body," he added, somewhat more hastily. "And your… uh… your… mmm. It suits you, but I have to say, Kaname, if you are planning to attend classes in that attire, uh… should I… I believe I own a copy of the DSM-IV…"

Kaname felt the thick, familiar rasp of her teeth grinding. Of course he owned the DSM-IV. The first class he'd taken when they'd entered university together had been Introduction to Human Psychology—at her insistence.

She wasn't sure which was scarier—that he thought that she, of the two of them, was the one with the serious psychosocial disturbance… or that he, simply by dint of the fact that he owned a book on the classification of mental disorders, felt qualified to diagnose her with _anything._

And for _that_… Chidori bared her teeth in a smile, and Sousuke's eyes widened further as she reached over, and laid her fingers at the hollow of his collarbone. The skin underneath her fingertips was just a little too warm—and she felt him shudder when she took a step towards him. Then another. One more.

There were more ways to skin a Sergeant than whacking him to Waseda and back.

"My… attire, Sousuke?" she walked her fingers up his neck, slowly, towards the pert point of his chin. His throat twitched under her fingers as he gulped. "You mean my bra?" His entire body twitched, this time. "You like it, hmm?"

"I… uh… I…" when he went red, she'd noticed, his scar was edged by white. At this moment, it was edged very, _very_ white.

"Well… how about this, then? If you can take this piece of _attire_ off me, soldier…" she whispered, teasing, leaning forward against his chest until she heard him gulp, felt his hands come up to rest on her hips as if he were going to try and nudge her away, "…then you can have what's under it."

The hands that he'd just rested on her hips jerked hard enough to leave tiny aching prints where his fingers had dug into her.

Sousuke, she knew, very rarely allowed himself to get off-balance. Things startled him, true, but never for very long; once, when she'd asked him how he responded so quickly to things, he'd replied—very seriously, "If you allow yourself the leisure to be shocked, Chidori, then you are allowing yourself the leisure to be dead."

He still called her Chidori, sometimes, especially when giving his little speeches. At that particular moment, she hadn't found it very cute at all. Especially since her own question had been rhetorical, in response to why he'd pinged a visiting professor with a rubber bullet. All the man had done was come ricocheting around the corner in front of them, on his way to being late for a new class…

Sousuke's jaw didn't drop—but when he looked down at her, eyes wide, his breath came in a sudden sharp intake—and with the way his pupils expanded in a dark circle of desire until there was only a thin shadow-line of grey around them… oh, that was very satisfying indeed. She could have pulled a _gun _on him, and she doubted he'd have so much as asked her what she was doing with it. _Bang, you're dead, Sergeant._

"But!" her sharp word made him breathe again, a quick little whoosh, and she smiled. Dangerously. "There are rules. You like rules, don't you, Sousuke?" She didn't bother waiting for his nod—she'd have waited awhile, considering that he looked like someone had frozen him in stone. "One… no looking. You keep your eyes _right _here in front, where they belong."

He might have had no experience whatsoever with women's clothing, but anyone who operated complicated machinery could probably figure out a simple eye-and-hook latch after a bit of examination. Probably.

"Two… no moving a step from where you are right now. If I can get it open backwards, I'm sure a clever fellow like you can figure it out." His mouth moved as if he were trying to say something, but nothing—absolutely nothing—came out. She grinned, and touched a finger to his lips. "Three… you _have _to undo the clasp. No breaking it, or cutting it. No guns, knives, blades, or other objects."

It wasn't that she didn't trust him, but he so _would_ pull a combat knife to get her bra off… and probably take off quite a bit of her hair, too. It amused and annoyed her that she was more concerned about the damage to the expensive bra than any thought that he might actually cut _her_. And because she _was_ just the teensiest bit annoyed still at his suggestion that she had exhibitionist tendencies… Chidori found herself purring, "I don't want anything but your hands on me, Sousuke. You hear me?"

She didn't have time to be shocked at herself before he shifted in place, and made a choked, raw noise in his throat that might have been recognisable as her name—if it hadn't been half a groan, and half a growl.

Oh, my—she hadn't even known he could make sounds like that.

Why hadn't she thought of this before? This was _much_ more satisfying than hitting him when she was mad at him. "Do you accept your mission, soldier?" she heard herself murmur, her own voice throaty—she hadn't known that _she_ could make sounds like that, either.

His arms came up, around her, hands leaving their perch to glide underneath the thick mass of her hair, and she shuddered herself at the rasp of his callused palms brushing the small of her back. He had to try twice before she could actually understand his "Affirmative."

In the first few minutes, she found herself enjoying his touch. It wasn't really overtly sexual—a guy fiddling with her bra, while it had potential romance to it, could only tangentially be considered a caress, after all. Besides, his hands were on her back. But there was something in the way he was looking at her—at her face, not her body—that fluffed all her insides to cotton candy. Sousuke touched her so rarely, and she hadn't thought that he'd be so gentle… and his hands were trembling, a little.

It didn't take long, though, until there was a look of distinct frustration creeping up on his face; his hands were no longer trembling, and he was frowning over her shoulder as if the floor were sheltering a dangerous terrorist.

His hands were still gentle—the expression on his face wasn't.

True, she hadn't _really_ expected him to figure it out… but at the same time, Kaname had never thought she'd see the day when the great Sagara Sousuke, Arm Slave pilot and Sergeant of the Mithril forces, would be laid low by a simple, flimsy piece of clothing.

Admittedly, said piece of clothing had been laying men low for years—and the sight of him fiddling and tugging and muttering to himself—something about locking mechanisms and inefficiency of design and superfluous complexity—actually _was_ more than worth the initial embarrassment of running into the living room only half-dressed.

For once, she had had to concentrate on remembering why she'd been annoyed at him… because as little as she knew about men, she suspected that bursting out laughing at him was _not_ the appropriate response. Not, at least, if she actually ever wanted something more, well, intimate. Especially when right at this moment, she had her chest pressed close enough to him that she could feel his warmth, the small movements of his chest and his shoulders, right through his undershirt… well, that little factor probably wasn't helping matters.

After all, he twitched and lost his place every time she so much as breathed.

In the end, she had to admit that he was pretty good—despite her breathing, and a little murmur from her now and again, and maybe a shimmy or two just for fun, he actually managed to get _one_ of the little hooks out of its eye.

Unfortunately for him… there were three of them. She needed her support, after all.

Sousuke wasn't given to sulking, but oh, the _look_ that crossed his face when she finally stepped back and chirped, "Sousuke, we're going to be late for school. I've got to get dressed."

"B-but…" he wasn't spluttering, but it was close. Very close. "Kaname, I…"

"Yes?" she blinked up at him, sweetly, taking a step back. His hands tightened on her back for an instant, as if to keep her from going anywhere, and she had to fight down a triumphant grin. "What is it, Sousuke?"

Kaname couldn't quite bear to laugh at him when he took a deep breath—held it—and muttered something to the effect of him having to clean up the glass, her going ahead, and that he would follow as soon as he was… able.

At least, she waited until she was out of the door, out of the apartment, and out of earshot before she sat down on the curb and laughed so hard that she cried.

The truth was, Sousuke took so long that she'd already composed herself (mostly) and stood, tapping her foot with impatience, by the time he loped out of their apartment building. Chidori hated being one of those kids who snuck into the back of the lecture hall while the professor was already talking, and it wasn't hard to tell that they were both already going to be late for their first classes. But when she took his hand and started running with him towards the train station… she found that she didn't really mind. Just this once. To his credit, he didn't say anything about how he'd told her to go on ahead.

Besides, there was something about the look on his face—he was back to being Stone-Faced Serious Sagara, mostly, but there was a glint in his eyes that looked like… determination, steel and fire and smoke.

Kaname didn't bother hiding her grin. Oh, she knew he was glancing sidelong at her with a wary expression—she _really _hated being late, after all—but it always amazed her when she learned something about her boyfriend that she really should have already known.

Slipping into his bedroll? No, there were just too many ways that his mind could misinterpret that… he'd probably have managed to justify it to himself even if she _had _been naked. Probably something to the effect of her suffering from a mental disorder. Wouldn't _that_ have been enjoyable?

Alcohol? No, Sousuke didn't touch the stuff. Besides, to tell the truth, she rather feared the thought of anyone who carried that much weaponry getting drunk anyway.

Complicated plots and love hotel schemes? Expensive. Very. Besides, she didn't even want to _think_ about him wasting that paid-for time babbling on about security countermeasures. After all, she was learning about him, too… or, well, learning what just wasn't going to change.

It was simple, really. The best way to get Sousuke to think—and, more importantly, to pay attention, rather than just react… was to give him something physical that _he_ _couldn't do_.

For all that Melissa Mao and Kurz Weber were very close to him in ways that she had never been and never hoped to be… she was willing to bet that they'd never figured _that_ out. And if the annoyingly cute little China-doll of a Captain ever managed to come up with anything so totally tailored to Sousuke's competitive psychology, Kaname would eat her Bonta-kun doll.

She probably should have been insulted that he was most likely thinking about the mechanism to getting her bra open, rather than the so-called reward that she'd promised… but, well, Sousuke had to start somewhere. Besides, she knew she had insecure moments, now and again… but she really did doubt that it had been the effort of figuring out the bra itself that had brought that blush to his face and that hot slate _look_ into his eyes…

"You know, Chidori…" he began, thoughtfully, as they were standing on the train platform, and she turned to him with a smile. "An elastic rig with a catch of that sort would probably be particularly effective as a binding mechanism for prisoners of war… deceptively simple, but nonetheless—"

This time... Kaname hit him.

-owari… sort of-  
-------------------------------------------------------

A/N: This really is a two-part story… but honestly, if silliness is your bread and butter, then you can certainly stop here. Just saying. -grin-


	2. Part 2 of 2

Hakuhei Shugi (Close Quarters)

Part 2/2  
---------------------------------------  
Nothing hit the floor the second time she walked out of her bedroom wearing a pair of sweatpants, a bra, and not much else, but it was entertaining watching him rescue his Japanese History notebook from its plunge into the—thankfully empty—sink.

"Why _don't_ you look at me like that when I'm wearing a bikini?" she teased. Coming out half-naked got easier with time, maybe. This time, when she linked her fingers and stretched her arms over her head, arching her back just a _hint_, she watched his eyes actually bulge. _Oh, huh._ _Neat._ "It covers a lot less than _this_, you know."

He jerked his gaze away from her and stared rather pointedly at a point just over her head. To her disappointment, when he did that, the sizzling look that she was growing very fond of cleared from his eyes… somewhat. "I am…" he stopped, swallowed, and tried again, "I am aware of that, but… why would I? The beach is a public place, and many of the girls wear bikinis. I do not understand the inclination for exhibitionism, but it seems to be standard attire." He blinked down at her for just long enough to meet her gaze before beginning his search for nonexistent cobwebs on the ceiling again. "You would be very angry if I stared at them, would you not, Kaname?"

Kaname closed her eyes. Then _squeezed_ them shut, for good measure. It was an unholy miracle that no-one had caught on to his cluelessness and told him that a Speedo was "standard attire." "Sousuke… then… why… you… looking… but…" She shook her head. She didn't really want to know… did she? "That doesn't explain… oh, never _mind_."

"If you are referring to me looking at _you_ in an, uh, appreciative manner, Kaname," he glanced at her, just out of the corners of his eyes, as if she were armed and speaking in Russian. Except knowing him, maybe he spoke Russian. "We are in a private location now. You are very beautiful, and it is…" his eyes dipped from their position pointed over her head for just a millisecond before snapping back upwards with almost tangible force, "…um…very nice, looking at you." He paused, and gave her a rather wary look. "Are you… offended? You seemed to be… encouraging me, earlier, but…"

She had to admit… when Sousuke said that she was beautiful, like that, it made her _feel _beautiful. He often said it in such an offhand fashion—like it had never occurred to him that she might be anything else. "Well… I'd be more offended if you _didn't_ look," she confessed, taking a tentative step towards her very own idiot. Heck, she _had_ been plenty offended that he never seemed to give her so much as a second glance on the beach, even when she was wearing the teensiest, weensiest, most uncomfortable little bikinis that the swimsuit shop had.

It just so _figured_ that he had his reasons, and apparently the control of a Buddha.

All he said was "…I see," but the way his gaze slid lower—not a quick jerk, this time, a slow runner of a look, almost a caress—was _so_ much better than words.

Some of the people they both knew, casual acquaintances mostly, complained that Sousuke would have been handsome, if he ever acquired an expression that wasn't… deadpan. They would be very surprised, she thought, to witness the way he could just, well, lick someone up and down with nothing more than the appreciation in his gaze. And then they would be very dead, because she _never_ wanted Sousuke looking at anyone else like that.

"I'll be even more offended…" it was fun, walking towards him—she'd long suspected that he'd been trained to automatically keep all movement in his line of sight, and watching the way his eyes flickered, as if he wasn't sure what part of her he wanted to look at first, was… absurdly delightful. "If you don't…"

He gulped—she wasn't sure if that was an effect of her walking towards him or the threat of offending her, but, well, she chose to believe it was the sway of her body, the flick of her hair from side to side. "If I don't…?"

Kaname stopped, and propped her hands on her hips. Oh, no, she was not going to be doing all the work. If he wanted her… "If you don't come over and put your hands on me again, Sagara Sousuke," she tried for bold and sexy—hadn't it been so easy, earlier?—but her own voice sounded thin, and shook a little at the end of his name.

So much for bold and sexy.

There. There, she'd said it. And thank all the gods, a moment later, he was _there_—he'd moved quickly enough that she'd barely had time to blink, much less breathe, and she gasped in surprise when he slid his arms around her, slipping them underneath the thick curtain of her hair. The heat of him, the delicate leashed strength when his hands brushed her sides but pressed no further… she didn't know if it would ever stop surprising her. She didn't know if she ever _wanted_ it to stop surprising her.

"I would not want you offended," he murmured—but this time, he _was_ smiling.

He had one hand resting, warm and rough, on the curve of her hip—she liked that, especially when his thumb teased lightly just over the waistband of her sweatpants; his hands were callused coarse, but they were gentle on her skin, and cozy. Kaname's lips parted on an involuntary sigh when he pulled her just that few inches closer, and his other hand trailed up her spine, leaving tingling shivers in its trail.

Mmm… he'd held her before, of course, and hugged her, but there really _was _something to be said about the feel of his touch on her bare skin. She heard her own breath snag as he trailed his fingers up her back, down it and up again, sliding just under her bra strap until her lips parted… and then sliding away, back to those sparkling, fleeting caresses. Over and over and over, slow cycles tracing over her back—now his fingertips, now those palms in broad strokes, how was it even possible that he was so unaffected by this…?

Kaname snuck a swift peek downwards through her lashes—and just as quickly jerked her gaze back up to the safe, innocent, _nonbulging_ line of his scarred cheek.

All right, maybe it _wasn't_ possible that he was so unaffected… and the thought of him… down _there_… and… and… oh, _my._

She'd been waiting for this for so _long… _if she left him to his own devices, who _knew _how long these maddening little touches would continue? Minutes? _Months?_

It was, Kaname decided, time to take matters into her own… hands, no matter how bad a pun that seemed just at this particular moment. She'd make it simple for him—she gently tugged free of the tingling, delicate web of sensation that those little caresses were weaving around her, and reached backwards for the pesky clasp that had started all this nonsense…

And found his fingers shielding it from her touch.

"That is not… necessary, Kaname," he murmured, his voice a half-octave husky.

Kaname stifled a little sound of disappointment. "But Sousuke, you're… I mean, down there, you're—" Okay, even if she'd just blurted it out, even _her_ throat stuck on that—and she was frankly amazed that that much blood could rush to his face and still leave him any left for… well… the rest of him.

"Ah… um… I cannot help that, Kaname," he admitted… though not without somehow managing to flush even more scarlet than he'd been just moments earlier. "You are… well. Yes. But it is still not necessary for you to undo your… um."

Okay, maybe they were going a little fast, and… she didn't want to rush him, either, right? Right? _Right?_ she scolded her jumping, skittering, dancing-in-a-chorus-line hormones. Yes, maybe he _was _being too careful for her tastes—and after all these years, too!—but him pressing her for anything _she _wasn't comfortable doing would have lead to a thorough beating in the past. Kaname liked to think that she could compromise… at least sometimes. When it was convenient. And didn't lead to collateral damage or apartment remodelling.

At least he'd figured out that she liked being touched. And she'd figured out that for all his reticence, he liked touching—and, more importantly, he was good at it. This was good. This was _very_ good. She'd be seeing him naked in no time at all.

And wasn't _that_ just a thought to make her breathless with anticipation…?

Still, it wasn't like she was going to pass up an opportunity to tease him—not after this much progress! Kaname dragged up a chuckle, and leaned into his chest again, sliding both hands over his shoulders… one up his throat… and over to trace his lips with a finger. "What is it, Sou-su-ke?" she purred, and heard him gulp. Maybe he was starting to recognise that tone… she certainly hoped so. It was harder work than it looked like, trying to sound… sexy. "You want to undo it yourself?" _Tough-as-nails sergeant doesn't want to own up to getting beat by a bra?_

She'd just been teasing, of course, but his answer took her thoroughly by surprise. "Affirmative!" His gaze slid away from hers when she blinked at the crisp enthusiasm in his voice. "Ah… is the… mission… that you proposed still in effect, Kaname?"

Mission?

It took a long moment of entirely-too-sluggish thinking to remember exactly what her personal military maniac was referring to.

Chidori laughed, soundlessly, and found herself… blushing. For a minute, she'd imagined that his enthusiasm was for the damned mechanistics of the damned undergarment again, and had entertained the briefest moment of fantasy of showing him how effectively a bra could be used to strangle oblivious men.

Considering that she'd been about to take the thing off _herself_, she would have thought that the answer to his question would have been glaringly obvious, even for him… but, well, she didn't really mind. Not knowing that he was actually interested in more than the bra itself. "Mmmm." She pretended to think about it, tapping a finger on the firm blade of his shoulder. She didn't actually think he'd figure out the clasp today, which would cause some delays, but… she could wait. And cater to that stubborn pride of his, just this once. Maybe she'd have to pick up some of those bras which had just _one_ hook—what was the point of extra support if the thing was just meant to… vanish, after all? "Okay."

"Ah. Good," he replied—much to her delight, sounding decidedly, well, _fierce—_and leaned down to cover her mouth with his.

Sousuke didn't kiss her like this very often—mostly only when they managed to make it out of some genuinely life-or-death situation. Still, when he did, he was a really exceptional kisser—as meticulous in it as he was with everything else. In fact, he was good enough that on more than one occasion, she'd entertained thoughts of _getting_ into trouble, just to get him to give her more than his cursory, sweet little pecks on her cheek. (Not really. Okay, well, yes, _really._)

She didn't know how anyone could manage to still be totally proper while kissing the life, breath, and remaining sanity out of a girl, but it was so oddly _erotic, _the way he did it—the inches of space between them, the only points of contact between them where their lips touched, where his hands held her body, her fingers at his nape, her forearms on his shoulders… at least at first. If the way he nipped and glided and licked hadn't turned her brain to liquid and sent cocoa trickling sweet and hot down all of her nerves, she'd have been vaguely insulted by the fact that kissing didn't make _his_ knees go all limp and noodly. She somehow always ended up plastered over _him. _But then, he _was _a soldier, after all, and Sagara Sousuke besides. She doubted anything short of a rifle shot made those stubborn knees give out.

And besides, what with everything that was happening between them… she could only imagine what that mouth would feel like… elsewhere. Maybe _everywhere_.

Kaname heard herself moan softly at the throb of heat, leaning into him, into his strength and his embrace, and only upright mostly because she knew that sliding down him to the ground would definitely pull his mouth away from hers. She had the briefest moment to wish that he'd hold her a little more tightly, rather than just having one hand at her waist, one hand resting just across the band of that pesky bra strap—

Then he _did_ something with that one hand—a little twist, maybe. There was a sound a little like he'd just snapped his fingers behind her—but the _shhh_ of cloth sliding across cloth was that much louder to her ears. Kaname's mouth fell open against his as she felt the bra catch come open, the straps snapping loose to dangle by her sides, and the cups suddenly much… _looser_… than they had been. "Wh-what—"

"Mission accomplished," he replied, smugly.

-owari-  
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Start: April 20, 2007  
End: April 21, 2007

A/N: I couldn't help it. I just… I was walking home the other day from an exam, and I just… had to. The idea of Sousuke foiled by a bra was just so… so… so _classic_, and after endocrinology and immunology, I wanted to be _silly,_ darn it. So excuse the transparency of the plot devices—I needed stress relief. -sheepish-

白兵主義, _(hakuhei shugi_) by the way, actually means the strategy used in fighting hand-to-hand, or at close quarters. 白兵 literally means a sword out of its sheath. -is shot-

And for all of those who are thinking, "Whaaat? No matter _how _talented Sousuke is, there's no way any guy can undo a bra with one hand!"

Yes, they can. That's all I'm going to say about that. -laugh-

And as to how exactly _Sousuke_ figured out how to undo a bra, much less with one hand… you can use your imagination, or you can ask me. -laugh- I couldn't figure out how to believably work it into the flow of the story.


End file.
